


King of the Road

by levele3



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Truckers, Dorks in Love, F/M, Falling In Love, Gen, Sex, Smut, Truckers, butterfly bog, falling in love in short periods of time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2018-09-15 19:30:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9252551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levele3/pseuds/levele3
Summary: Bog and Marianne have never met. They have only ever communicated over CB radio trading insults, jokes, and witty banter.Marianne drives a shiny (fairly new) purple Peterbilt, her father’s company logo, a silvery-white butterfly painted on the side. Bog’s truck is quite a bit older, the once pristine paint job is rusted and peeling in spots. He hauls logs for the Dark Forest logging company. Marianne only knows him by his handle “BK”, likewise everyone calls her “Tough Girl” but only because he called her that first.They never seem to be going the same way, always headed in opposite directions, but Bog always keeps his eyes out for that purple Pete.*Reposted from Tumblr*





	1. King of the Road

**Author's Note:**

> A Strange Magic truck driving AU because why the fuck not?  
> I have made some minor changes since the original posting.

The lines on the highway blur together, the radio is just playing static, Bog's stomach grumbles and he check the time on the clock. It’s just after noon and he’s been up since 6, Bog doesn’t remember the last time he ate. Just up ahead there is an exit he knows well. He pulls off the highway and into the nearest truck-stop diner. He needs a cup of hundred mile coffee and maybe some grub to go with that. 

 The Primrose Diner is small but perfectly situated on the border between two states so no matter which way you were driving it was a good place to stop. Plus Bog is regular enough to know the owners pretty well.

 “Hey Hot Stuff” Bog says hanging his forest green hat up on the hat stand as he walks in.

 It’s tradition and anyone who’s been there before knows to do it. Bog is so out of sorts he doesn’t even take stock of the other hats. He runs a mostly dirty hand through his definitely dirty hair making it stick up in odd places. He knows he didn't get enough sleep the night before but the logs won't haul themselves.

Hot Stuff, or simply Stuff, is already pouring him a cup of coffee when he takes a seat at the bar. He absently scratches his chin and grimaces at the feel of thick stubble, _when was the last time I shaved?_ He catches a glimpse of himself  in the mirror behind the counter and marvels when it doesn’t break, he looks ghastly, dark bags under his eyes, highlighting the deep lines there and his face looks gaunt and pale. 

Bog is still nursing his coffee when two girls approach the bar their light conversation and easy banter catches his ear.

“No Dawn it’s, “keep the _bugs_ off your bumper and the _bears_ off your tail.” A fond giggle follows.

Bog gives them a sideways glace, the blonde one, Dawn he assumes, has a look of mild understanding on her face, her pink lips shaped into a perfect little “o.” She’s wearing a baby blue hoodie with gold Greek letters embossed on, and high-end sweatpants. She appears every inch the sorority girl she clearly is. 

Her companion on the other hand, Bog takes a minute to appreciate the tight blue jeans, ripped and spotted with grease though they are, paired with a tight purple t-shirt.

Thankfully his leering has gone unnoticed as the girls pay their bill and chat with Stuff. 

“Where you girls headed to this time, Marianne?” She asks with friendly ease.

“Mickey Town” the blonde says so sure footed she’s got the lingo right and Bog has the sudden need to snort into his hand and covers it with a cough.

“Close enough” Marianne says, trying and failing to hide her own smirk of amusement. 

"All the way down to Florida eh?” Stuff infers.

“Yup, and we’re gonna bring back oranges!” Dawn’s joy is infectious.

“Yup, should be back this way in six days” Marianne confirms, “I promised dad I’d bring this little one back to the stack of bricks. Hold my table for me?” she asks pointing back at the window seat booth they had recently vacated.

“Six days, it’s a date Tough Girl.” Stuff says making her way back down the bar with a fresh pot of coffee, refilling mugs as she goes.

Bog sputters into his cup when he hears Stuff referring to the spunky little number as Tough Girl. He turns around in time to see her grab a matching purple hat off the stand, both it and the back of her t-shirt bare the logo of a white butterfly.

 “So, BK, you want your usual or can I get Thang to cook you up something new?”

 ***

 Marianne is almost out the door when she hears her favourite two letters of the alphabet.

 “BK” she whispers, she can feel her eyes go wide in surprise and slowly she turns around.

The guy sitting at the bar, the one with delightfully rumpled hair, and creased black t-shirt, and three-day-old stubble, the one who smelled like leather and diesel, the one she hadn’t paid too much attention to because he _did not_ have the most gorgeous blue eyes ever, was BK?

He was staring back at her, their eyes met in an intense connection. She wanted to stay and talk, but she also had a run to make. Instead she mouths the words “six days” and he gives a slight inclination of his head in turn.

Marianne’s heart leaps at the thought. Six days, she’ll see him again in six days.

“Who was that?” Dawn asks as they walk across the parking lot together, “do you know that guy?”

She knows that by the time he’s left the Primrose Diner there will be too much distance between them to talk over the CB, by the time she stops for the night there will be three states and a Great Lake between them.

Dawn doesn’t stop asking questions but Marianne doesn’t give many answers.

 ***

“Yeah, I’ll have the usual” Bog says after the door to the diner has shut.

Six days, he just has to wait six days and he’ll finally get to talk to her, the woman of his dreams.

“Hey Wild Thang, I need two eggs, sunny-side up, half a hog, and two stacks of toast, strawberry jam on the side” Stuff hollers back to the kitchen.

Thang sticks his head out over the little window, “why didn’t you tell me BK was here?”

Bog looks out the window once more to see the purple Peterbilt pulling up onto the interstate, she really knows how to handle that rig, he thinks.


	2. Driving my Life Away

Bog didn’t look any better in the flickering bathroom florescent of the road-side motel than he did a week ago sitting in the Primrose. Despite having spent the night in an actual bed, and not just the cab of his truck, Bog still looks old and tired. A ragged gray towel hangs loose around his narrow waist, for someone who survives on coffee and grease Bog never seems to gain an inch. His bare feet stick to the cold tiled floor as he lathers up his face, preparing to shave.

He stopped at a drug store the night before to pick up a few essentials, a pack of disposable razors, a new tube of toothpaste, and impulsively a box of condoms. He has no idea what he was thinking. _She doesn’t want me like that,_ the cruel part of his brain whispers. Besides they both have runs to make, _just some friendly conversation over a hot meal,_ he reassures himself. Not a date. 

The cheap razor nicks him and leaves behind random thorn-pricks of stubble but it’s a damn-sight better than before. It’s not a smooth shave by any means but it will do.

He has no idea why he wants to look good for her, she’s already seen him at his worse, but he takes care as he dresses. He slips on a relatively clean pair of black denim jeans and faded black t-shirt, pulling on a red, white, and black plaid button up over top, which he lets hang open. 

***

Bog tries not to think about the way his heart is pounding away in his chest at the sight of her truck parked outside the Primrose.  Walking in the door he hangs his hat up next to hers, there is a thumb print of a smudge of grease right over one edge of the logo and he smirks. Instead of taking his usual seat at the bar Bog makes his way to the booth where he can see a fluff of blonde hair sticking up.   

He sees Stuff’s questioning gaze but doesn’t stop to chat just nods his head, _he wants his usual._

“Marianne, you look _fine_ , stop worrying” Dawn coos soothingly.

Marianne’s hand is still hanging in the air when she comes into Bog’s line of vision, aborted in its trek through her hair. The sister’s each have a plate of Thang’s wild blueberry pancakes, stacked four high in front of them. Marianne has a side of crispy bacon with hers and coffee that is tarmac black. Dawn has a half full glass of orange juice, and a small plate of home-fries. 

Bog clears his throat garnering their attention, the girls both turn to look at him at the same time, piercing him with gazes of equal intensity. He rocks back and forth on his feet, suddenly shy and awkward under their scrutiny.  The sisters are sitting across from one another and Bog is trying to decide which is the lesser of the two evils to sit next to when his choice is taken from him.

The bubbly one jumps up and grabs on to his arm for dear life.

“Hi, I’m Dawn, it’s so nice to finally meet you” her enthusiasm is overwhelming and Bog fears his whole arm will come out of its socket before she stops shaking his hand.

With ease that should not have been possible she drags him down into the booth beside her so that he’s sitting across from Marianne. The name has haunted him all week. He’d never known her name before that day. Bog spent a lot of time practicing saying her name; he liked the way it tasted on his tongue. 

“Bog, Bog King” he says stuttering over his own name when he realised Dawn had asked, Marianne hasn’t said a word, she’s just staring at him.

Their eyes meet across the table and she looks away, suddenly very interested in her plate she crunches on a piece of bacon. 

***

Marianne remembers the first time she heard that deep gruff voice rumble its way through her CB radio, she’d just given out a warning call to let other drivers know there was some spots of ice on the road from where she’d just come. She’d gotten a handful of mildly polite ten-fours, letting her know her message had been received when an accented snarl came through the static.

“Way to state the _fucking_ obvious _princess_ ”

Instantly the CB was full of the other guys trying to defend her.

“Leave her alone BK” 

“Ease off BK”

“Let the butterfly be”

Marianne was thankful the other drivers around her were so supportive but she didn’t want them to think she was incapable of defending herself.

“Well if it’s so ‘ _fucking_ obvious’ why didn’t I hear _you_ warn anybody?” she snarled right back.

This got a handful of “oohs” and “she told you BK”

“Little _princess_ thinks she’s such a _tough girl_ ” he spat, once the airways had cleared again, “driving a big rig, but you aint nothing. Talk ta me again when you got yer training wheels off, _Tough Girl._ ”

There second encounter had gone much differently.

***

Bog lay wide awake, listening to the steady stream of traffic zoom past his truck. He couldn’t sleep, not tonight. Just when he’d given up all hope of sleeping at all a soft melodic crooning had come through the CB. Bog was sure he must have died and that the angel was singing him to heaven. Not even Janis Joplin had sung _Me and Bobby McGee_ like that. Bog had fallen to sleep with ease after that.  

There was something about a woman who had the ability to sing a fully grown man to sleep that Bog just couldn’t shake, especially when sleep wasn’t his friend. He was nicer to her after that, though he really never let on why.

***

Marianne had gotten a whiff of Cedar when Bog sat down at their table. _Of course he smells like Cedar you idiot, he hauls trees_.

She can’t get over how blue his eyes are, how young he looks now that he’s shaved.

Stuff is quick to waddle over with her pot of coffee, filling Bog’s mug to the brim and topping up hers in the process. It isn’t long before the new kitchen boy, a pimply faced sixteen year-old with white-blonde hair, brings out the deluxe breakfast Bog ordered.

“Gee, when they say half-a-hog, they mean it” Marianne says, looking over Bog’s plate, “Don’t look Dawn, she doesn’t eat meat” Marianne explains.

There is no less than four slices of bacon, extra crispy, four breakfast sausages, and two slices of thick cut ham jammed onto the plate, there is also a mountain of home-fries on top of which sits two eggs, and two slices of toast.  

The three of them leave the diner together but Dawn makes a beeline for her sister’s truck hoping to give Marianne and Bog a moment alone.

“That’s quite the shotgun you got there” Bog says nodding at Dawn’s retreating form, he doesn’t know what to talk about now that they are actually face to face.

“Yeah, and she’s fully loaded too” Marianne agrees, flashing a grin of adoration in her sister’s direction.

“Would you like to go out sometime?” he asks before he can lose his nerve, the words rush out of his mouth all jumbled together. 

Marianne stops so quickly Bog nearly walks past her, not even realising he’d been walking her to her truck.

“You wanna go out with me?” she asks in disbelief, “you aint got a stack of bricks somewhere with a wife or- ”

“NO! I mean _yes,_ I mean no, I don’t have a wife. Just my mam” his lips twitch into an involuntary smile at the thought of his mother and Marianne struggles not to blush.

“Well then, you’ve got yourself a date” Marianne says as he gives her a hand up. He is so shy and awkward, and he has no idea how handsome he looks, she thinks.

“Hey, Marianne” Dawn hollers, “their on here talking about _foxes in the henhouse_ ” 

Marianne and Bog both burst out into riotous laughter.

“I think you mean ‘ _Bears in the chicken-coop’_ Dawn” Marianne yells back, rolling her eyes for Bog’s benefit.

“That’s what _I_ said” Dawn huffs.

“It’s amazing how she knows what TBH and OMG stand for but she can’t pick up on trucker slang.” Marianne says, delaying the good-bye. 

Bog is still holding her small hand in both of his big ones and part of her doesn’t want him to let go.

“Until next time then, _princess_ ” he says, low and smooth, brushing his chapped lips to the back of her hand. 

Something inside Marianne’s chest gives a flutter at the contact and she nearly swoons. Watching him drive away is hard to do, but knowing she’ll see him again soon makes it alright.


	3. Jackknifed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is NSFW

Bog ignores the cat calls from the lot lizards as he makes his way across the otherwise empty parking lot. He has his date with Marianne tonight and nothing is going to kill his good mood.  His battered old Kenworth looks like shite next to the nearly pristine Peterbilt. The black paint that once damn neared _sparkled_ in the sunlight looks dull in the afterglow of dusk. He used to win _show and shine_ competitions with his rig, ol’ Ken wouldn’t even place now, not even if Bog had a whole bottle of wax and a 5 gallon bucket of hot soapy water.  There is rust spots around the headlights and at some point the _W_ fell off. The beast with its double smoke stacks stares him down and Bog can just make out the pine tree shape of the air freshener dangling in the window.  

His path is intercepted by one of the lot lizards, obviously more insistent than the others. She must be new; the others know to leave him alone. He’s not interested. The bottled blonde presses against him, runs the palms of her hands down his chest like she owns him. The physical contact repulses him, not because she’s a prostitute, but because the touch is unwanted. 

Bog is supposed to meet Marianne at a dive bar down the street, and there is only _one_ street. The town has a name but Bog can’t remember it. It used to be a thriving place, somewhere to stop to get a hot meal and to lay down your head. Then the freeway went in and people forgot about little towns like this one. Bog can see the neon glow of the bar’s OPEN sign from here.

He pushes at the girl’s shoulder and pushes her away, and she really is only a girl he realizes when the harsh glare of the towering lamppost illuminates her. 

“Ah’m not buying what ye’r selling” he snarls at her, hoping to make his point clear.

She looks to the other women for help but they are all avoiding her gaze now. He wonders if they dared her to try him. He is getting more uncomfortable at her closeness by the minute and attempts to back away. She gives him a pleading look that turns mournful when he shows no sympathy. Bog knows everyone has to make a livin’ somehow, but she’s so young and he spares a minute to wonder what awful circumstances have driven her to this. 

“You’re meeting somebody in town aren’t ya” she says nodding her head at the street.

“Yeah” Bog releases it as an exhale, a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. 

The girl casts her eyes at the ground in shame and Bog feels guilty for being so rude.  

***

Marianne spins her cellphone around on the polished wood surface of the table for two she’d managed to claim at the seedy bar. Thoughts race through her mind at a mile a minute. _He’s not coming, he’s forgotten, he wasn’t really that interested._ The door opens and suddenly he’s there, a wisp of a girl comes in behind him and takes a seat at the bar. Marianne doesn’t think she looks old enough to drink but the large black man behind the counter gives the girl a knowing smile and slides a cold bottle into her hand.

“Sorry Ah’m late” Bog says as he slides into a chair opposite her. He throws two fingers in the air signaling the bartender.

Marianne gets a big whiff of Pine as he takes his seat and it has a strange calming effect on her. He looks good, even in the low dingy lighting of the bar. He’s wearing clean black jeans with nary a tear in them and a coal-grey button down shirt. The top few buttons are undone and Marianne can see the top of his black undershirt. She felt heat rise to her cheeks and Marianne averted her gaze and bit her lip just as the waitress, a tiny little thing in barely-there black booty-shorts, brought over their drinks.

“Can I get y’all anything else?” she asked, giving Bog the once over.

“No thank-you” Marianne said, somewhat regaining her composer. She stared daggers at the waitress and moved one of her hands so it rested over Bog’s.

If he was startled or surprised he didn’t show it. However he did slot their fingers together and gave the waitress a polite but swift dismissal. 

“That’ll be all thanks.” He flashed a crooked smile in her direction, and the perky young woman crinkled her nose in disgust before walking off to serve another patron.

Marianne and Bog both turned and looked at one another and burst out laughing. They didn’t stop holding hands. A few drinks and a shared plate of nachos later Marianne convinces Bog to get up and dance with her.

Bog and Marianne spin in slow lazy circles on the sticky barroom floor, while David Allan Coe croons _Would you lay with Me,_ from a dusty old jukebox-radio that sits in the corner. Marianne was surprised to find the thing still worked, but it belts out all the old sad and sweet country songs as if it was made yesterday.

The bar isn’t the fanciest place for a date, not even for truckers Marianne thinks. Maybe once upon a time it was a looker but now it’s no different than any other backwater rundown dive bar. It’s the kind of place where men where plaid shirts with dirty jeans with their work boots still on. Years’ worth of grime covers the bar top and the floor makes a terrible _squelching_ noise when you step on it.

Bog’s large hands are tucked into Marianne’s back jean pockets keeping her lithe frame pulled close to his. He whisper-sings the word of the song in her ear and she can feel the rumble in his chest reverberate in hers. She can’t think of anywhere else she’d rather be.

_Should my lips grow dry, would you wet them dear_

_In the midnight hour, if my lips we_ _re dry_

It was a sad song Marianne thought with sudden clarity.   

_Would you lay with me, in a field of stone_

_If my needs were strong, would you lay with me_

The song ends and Bog kisses her on the forehead, tucking her chin into his chest. He wraps his long, lean and muscular arms around her. He closes his eyes and prays he’s right.

“We _ah_ , that is _you_ could, do ye want to go back to mah truck and-” he is so nervous he can’t get the words out. Clearly he’s not yet had enough to drink. He can feel his face heat up in embarrassment. 

Marianne leans back from him and looks up in silent awe at the man who is too shy to ask her if she wants to have sex with him. A small, fond smile plays at the corner of her lips. She makes a throat clearing noise.

“Actually, I have a room at the motel” Marianne pitches her voice low and seductive, biting her lip for good measure. She rubs her hands slowly up and down his broad chest and feels the moment when his heartrate increases. 

In a flash their tab is paid and they exit the bar out into the cool spring night. 

***

 Bog sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his eyes while Marianne did whatever she was doing in the bathroom. He leaned over and pulled off his boots but not before considering leaving. She couldn’t want him to spend the night, _not really_. He was so old, and so ugly, and, and Bog lost his train of thought as Marianne emerged from the tiny motel bathroom.  

She was wearing a plum coloured satin nighty with lace trim around the edge and over the breast area. It was very short, not quite falling to the middle of her calf, showing off Marianne’s well-toned legs. She was back-lit by the faded incandescent light of the bathroom.

A lump got caught in his throat and Bog had to swallow around it.

“What did Ah do ta deserve this?” Bog asked as Marianne advanced toward him, an alluring sway to her hips. 

He licked his lips, he couldn’t help it. It had been long, so long since he’d found a woman he wanted to spend the night with, let-alone one who’d want to spend the night with him. Bog’s hands fit perfectly around Marianne’s waist, and he held her as she leaned forward and their lips met for the first time. She straddles his knee, her hot core aching for friction. Marianne moans in pleasure, pushing against Bog. Her hands roam the plans of his chest eager to remove the undershirt.

The lingerie piece was a Wal-Mart special but it has Marianne feeling like a million bucks when she sees the way Bog looks at her.

They part long enough for Bog to pull off his top then their mouths come together once more and Bog is leaning backwards, pulling her down on top of him. The silken fabric of her teddy slides deliciously against her body as Bog continues the rhythmic movement of his hands gliding up and down her body. Marianne shifts her position, straddles his hips and oh!

Bog gives a rather lustful hiss when Marianne rubs against his erection, still safely tucked away in his jeans. She does it again, this time on purpose and Bog growls in pleasure. The sweet slide of satin over denim and this time his hips come up to meet hers. Marianne pants breathily. 

Bog’s eyes meet hers and they are mere slits of bright blue surrounded by black.

“Oh, Tough Girl” he whispers reverently, his voice is a deep husky growl. 

Marianne has a hard time reconciling this as the sweet and shy man who’d shared a quiet breakfast with her and her sister not two weeks ago. Marianne grasps his shoulders and rocks against him again, harder. His fingers dig into her ribs, grounding him. They could do this dance all night Bog knows. They could take their time and make slow sweet love, exploring each other’s bodies, until they both come undone. Or they could fuck, rut like animals. He hopes to achieve a combination of both, after all this might be their only night together. 

“Marianne” her name is a whispered like a prayer or curse on his lips just before he flips her over.

She lets loose a giggle at the sudden change in him. He wiggles his monstrous eyebrows at her playfully as he slinks further down the bed. These are the things he has thought of in the dark hours. Long sleepless nights filled only with the thought of her, her name on his lips, over and over again.

“What are you-Oh!” Marianne cuts herself off when it becomes very apparent what Bog is going to do. 

She tilts her head back and her eyes flutter shut when Bog starts kissing the crook of her knee. He works his way slowly up her leg taking great pains to kiss every inch of pale skin he comes across between her knee and inner thigh. The stubble on his chin scratches and tickles the sensitive skin. A lick here and a nip there had Marianne squirming uncontrollably on top of the bed. 

“Bog, B-AH-agh. Please” she begs; his name a broken cry on her lips.

His only response is to growl into her thigh. This produces a delicious vibration up her leg, straight to her core. He looks to her face and their eyes meet, he is looking at her with lust and something else, something neither of them want to name but Marianne knows it’s reflected back at him in her eyes too. He flashes her one wicked looking grin and then he goes down on her. 

His hands bunch the fabric of the nighty up around her waist, and Marianne feels his hot breath on her a moment before his lips kiss her most intimate parts. 

“Oh!” Marianne cries out and her hips rise off the bed when Bog’s clever tongue licks at her clitoris. 

Bog’s rough hands hold her hips steady so her pelvic bone doesn’t break his nose and he continues giving her love the best way he knows how. His warm tongue manages to find every sensitive spot she has, inside and out.

Marianne fists her hands in the comforter, Bog’s hair, anywhere she can reach until she’s seeing stars. Until she’s screaming his name and Bog is sure every damn guest in this sleazy, thin-walled, motel knows his name, including the rats. Marianne is still breathing heavy, shaking from the aftershocks of her multiple orgasms, when Bog lays his head down beside hers.  

She looks over at him, and damn does he look wrecked. She looks down his long, lean frame and, oh. Lost in her pleasure Marianne had nearly forgotten about Bog, but there is an obvious bulge in his crotch area and she’s itching to get her hands on it.

Bog gives a rather shy blush when she says as much and he stammers “Ah’ve got condoms, but they’re in the truck.”

“Oh, do you really think I would have planed all this, and not brought condoms with me?” She replies with her own devilish grin.

Marianne dashes to the bathroom and returns triumphant with the little piece of protection in hand. She turns off the bathroom light behind her and only the two yellow lamps on either side of the bed are left to light the room. She carefully sets the condom down on the nightstand before rejoining Bog on the bed. 

They start by kissing again, and it’s the most natural thing in the world. It is like breathing. They rake their hands through each other’s hair until Marianne is bold enough to undo his jeans. She’s thankful he’d already removed his belt. Bog hisses through his teeth and gives a deep moan of pleasure at her touch. It’s everything he’s imagined and more. She strips his jeans off, and his underwear follow in quick succession. 

Marianne gives a little gasp of surprise at his length, but then she’s rubbing her hands up and down it in earnest. She can’t wait to ride him. 

Bog’s fingers leave red marks along Marianne’s thighs and buttocks as he grips at her for dear life. There are matching marks on his shoulders and down his chest. She had started off with a slow and steady pace as they adjusted to one another but now she was bouncing, gleefully riding his cock. The sexy little nighty is gone and Bog has the perfect view of Marianne’s lovely breasts. They’re not too big or too small for his liking, he can cup them perfectly in his hands. He runs his thumbs over her nipples and it causes Marianne to shiver. He is so close to coming for her, every torturous meeting of their hips brings him right to the edge, but not over.

 “Mari-Mari-ANNE-” it’s his turn to cry out her name.

“Please, _please_ , let me fuck you” Bog pleaded in a growling whisper.

Marianne stalls, they are both panting heavily. She is momentarily emotionally overcome by the request. 

“Oh, _yes_ , yes _please_. Fuck me, please _Bog_ , fuck me!” Marianne cries out, and once again he flips her over and buries himself deep. 

He thrusts against her hard and fast, pain mingles with pleasure as their hips collide. His breath is hot on her neck. Her tight walls flutter around him.

Words are lost to them, they can only grunt, groan, and pant. One last thrust has turned Bog into a quivering mess as he comes deep inside Marianne. He bites at her neck leaving behind an angry red love-bite. She gives one final, strangled cry of pleasure as her walls clamp around him.

Sometime later they lie next to each other in the hard bed. It’s not perfect but they have one another, if only for tonight.


	4. The Long Haul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you may have been predicting this, some of you have not as it's not often I write angst.. oops. Even still it's short lived. Thanks everyone for reading and reviewing. This is the little story that could <3

Marianne’s cheeks hurt from smiling so much. She can’t stop thinking about Bog. It’s been two weeks since that one night of amazing sex, and even just thinking about it is enough to get her all fired up. She’s driving down the wide open highway and a spark of thrill goes through her, she is seeing Bog again tonight. Marianne sings along to the radio, Jessi Colter’s, _I’m looking for Blue Eyes_.  

As the song fades out a crackle comes through her CB, and Marianne turns the stereo down completely to hear it. She furrows her brow and gives the CB an odd look. Did she hear that last message right?

She picks up the CB, presses the button on the side, and talks into it.

“This is Tough Girl ten-nine do what?” she asked.

The same guy as before repeated his message, and it came in a bit louder and clearer this time.

She still wasn’t sure she understood it fully. It was no kind of slang she was familiar with. 

“Preeshaydit, ten-four” she answered, then clicked the CB back into place on her dash.

“Trees on the road, caution, a KW spilled its trees on the road…” Marianne repeated the odd phrase a few times until it sunk in.

She knew a KW was a Kenworth, and ‘trees on the road’ must refer to a logging truck. Marianne had a solitary moment of satisfaction for having worked it out on her own when she was struck with sudden horror. Bog drove a Kenworth. Bog hauled logs.  

“BOG!” she screamed his name out loud, and her heart hammered in her chest.

She tried to stay calm, she had no proof it was him. She couldn’t help it when hot tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Come on Tough Girl, keep it together” she self-motivated.   

Marianne thought of all the safety reasons she had used herself when arguing to her father why she should be allowed to drive a truck. She was the biggest thing on the road, and even if she was in an accident she wouldn’t be hurt too badly. 

It was a nice clear day, the weather was good, no rain in sight. Marianne gripped the wheel a little tighter when her hands began to shake. She just couldn’t shake the feeling that it was Bog. She thought about trying to reach out to him over the CB, but decided it was better to focus on driving. With a few deep, if shaky, breathes Marianne steeled her resolve and just kept trucking along.

At last she saw break lights up ahead and gum balls flashing. There were four state police cars and two highway patrol vehicles. Up ahead Marianne could see two ambulances, and the police officers were walking up and down the line of cars. Logs and other debris were all over the road. When she finally caught a glimpse of the rig on its side in the wide ditch her heart clenched in her chest. It was Bog’s truck!

Marianne didn’t remember opening her cab door, or running out into the street as a female cop called after her.

“Mam? Mam! I’m going to have to ask you to get back in your vehicle!”

Time slowed. Marianne felt like she was running in slow motion as she made her way to the side of the road. The only sound was the furious beating of her own heart echoing inside her ears. _Bog. She had to get to Bog. She needed to see him._ To know he was as alright as she had convinced herself he would be.

Sound returned to the world with a vicious jolt as one of the ambulances went speeding off, its sirens blaring. Marianne teetered on the edge of the ditch. Tears streamed down her eyes and she shouted Bog’s name until her voice was hoarse.  She was about to climb down to the rig when two strong arms wrapped around her and pulled her back from the edge. 

Marianne struggled against the hold, her mind running on a loop, _Bog. Bog. I have to see Bog!_ Didn’t anybody know? Didn’t they understand? She loved him! Oh God! She loved him! Why hadn’t she told him? If he died, and she hadn’t told him, she would never forgive herself. 

Her back connected with a broad chest, and dry cracked lips brushed her ear. 

“Shhh, it’s alright Tough Girl, I’m right here.” A rough voice whispered in her ear.

Marianne’s heart stalled and she turned around in the arms that held her. 

It was Bog, and he was alive and she didn’t know if she wanted to punch him or kiss him but then his lips were crashing into hers and she was crying tears of joy, and then she punched him in the arm.

“Ow,” Bog hissed, pulling back from her a bit. His face twisted with pain.

He looked awful, his face was all cut up and bloody, and he was holding his left arm awkwardly.  The one she had punched in playful admonishment for scaring her. One of his eyes was starting to swell shut and Marianne could see where a bruise would form. Only after she had carefully taken stock of him, committing every little detail of him to her memory did Marianne let herself breathe again.

“You’re alive!” she said at last.   

Her lips curved into a soft, pleased smile, of their own accord. She couldn’t help it. Seeing him made her smile.

“Aye” he agreed, returning her smile with one of his own. 

His brilliant blue eyes sparkled with unshed tears of his own. For one terrifying moment, when he’d been trapped in the truck, he had feared he’d never get to see her again. That he would never get to tell her that he loved her. His heart lurched in his chest. He loved her, oh God, he loved her! His whole world suddenly seemed brighter.  

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again!” Marianne admonished.

Bog grinned at her playful spirit, “Marianne, I-” he began and then the wind was knocked out of him as Marianne wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close, burying her face deep into his chest.

Bog heard her audibly inhale, and then she was mumbling the same words, over and over again like a mantra.

“I love you Bog. I love you. If you had of died, I never would have forgiven myself for not telling you sooner. I need you Bog. I love you.” Marianne whispered the words fervently into his shirt.

Bog was only momentarily taken aback before he whispered low in her ear, “I love ye too, Tough Girl” then placed a gentle kiss to her temple with his chapped lips.  

His own declaration seemed to wake Marianne out of her daze and she pulled back to look up at him again. Concern clouded her honey-amber eyes.

 “What happened?” she asked, wiping away residue tears. 

Bog felt the atmosphere around them shift, and he let his worry show.  Their light hearted moment of confessions was over; it was time to get serious.

“Bloody bastard came out of nowhere” Bog hissed, “he was switching lanes without using a signal light, speeding up, slowing down.”

Bog had been sitting in the back of the ambulance, giving his statement to the police while the paramedics checked him over when he’d seen Marianne running down the middle of the highway. Without a word he had sprung up to chase after her in an attempt to keep her from seeing the wreck. His truck was more or less fine only barring a few more scratches; it was the twisted lump of metal that had once been a dark green sports car that Bog didn’t want her to see. Even he wasn’t sure if the other driver would survive.  

“Ah lost him” Bog admitted, “one minute he was in my mirror, and then he wasn’t. Next thing Ah knew he was right in front of me.”

Bog closed his eyes and relived the moment. The red flash of the brake lights phantom behind Bog’s lids, and the horrible screeching of tires echoed in his ears.  He swerved and some of his cargo went over the side. With the load unbalanced he’d lost control of the truck. In one last attempt to avoid causing a huge pile up of traffic Bog had directed the old truck right off the road and into the deep ravine that lined the highway.  The erratic driver had done something similar, landing in the ditch ahead of Bog’s truck, but the much smaller car had crumpled under the impact.

Marianne made reassuring comments at the signs of Bog’s obvious distress.

At the sound of footsteps Bog turned to see the two paramedics, a man and a woman jogging over to where they stood. They were followed by the officer who had been interviewing Bog and the female officer who had chased after Marianne after she’d left her truck.

“I’m sorry mam, but I’m going to have to ask you to return to your vehicle. You can’t leave it unattended on the highway like that.” The female cop panted softly, only slightly out of breath.  

“Sir, we have to take you to the hospital now.”  The male paramedic spoke up hesitantly.  

“The hospital, of course” Marianne agreed, nodding her head enthusiastically even if her voice sounded far away.

“Where are you taking him? Will I be able to visit him there?” Marianne asked, directing her questions at each of the paramedics in turn.

“Are you a relative mam?” The female paramedic asked.

“I’m his wife” Marianne replied in earnest, as at the same time Bog spoke without hesitating, “we’re married.”  

His dry voice cracked on the words, so eager were they to spring from his lips. 

Marianne and Bog turned to one another, each surprised by the others utter conviction in their statements. They both flushed a deep red.  

Bog pulled Marianne into one last tight hug.

“Be brave, Tough Girl” he whispered to her.

“See you soon, Honey” Marianne said, pressing a quick kiss to Bog’s rough cheek. “I love you” she added, pulling back, looking him the eyes as she said it, even as her own refilled with tears. She would never get tired of saying that. She wished she could go with him, but the cop was right Marianne just couldn’t leave her rig.

While the two paramedics escorted Bog back into the rear of the ambulance the female cop walked Marianne back to her truck.  

***

It was two hours before Marianne got to see Bog again. His arm was not broken merely sprained and the bruise Marianne had predicted coloured his cheek. She sat in the worn chair beside his bed, gently dabbing at the blood that still flecked his face. His face was turned towards her but his eyes were blurry with sedatives. He kept falling in and out of sleep.

Around ten o’clock that night Marianne woke up, still sitting in the hard chair. He neck was stiff from its odd angle, and she twisted it until it cracked with relief. At some point another patient had been brought into the room, the heavy curtain pulled across the room dividing it in two. Bog appeared to be in a deep sleep so it was with incredible stealth Marianne rose from her chair and made her way out to the brightly lit hallway.   

The fluorescents hurt her eyes and she squinted all the while looking for the water dispenser. Her mouth felt fuzzy and dry. She sipped the cool liquid slowly, allowing its soothing properties to trickle down her throat. Once back in the darkened room Marianne noticed how inviting the sliver of space beside Bog looked. She was tiny; surely she could fit in such a spot. 

Marianne climbed up on to the hospital bed beside Bog, snuggling herself in close. She didn’t bother with getting under the blankets, just laid on top of them. She inhaled searching for the familiar and calming scent of trees that she now associated with Bog, but it wasn’t there. The odour of hospital disinfectant met her eager nose and sent her into an unexpected coughing fit.  Bog shifted in his sleep and Marianne quieted herself. He needed his rest. Using his broad chest as a pillow Marianne was quick to fall back to sleep.  

Marianne felt as though she had only been a sleep a few minutes when her eyes sprung open again. Voices coming from the hallway had awoken her this time. Checking the time on her phone she saw it was only just past midnight. With a grumble she disengaged herself from the bed and quietly stalked her way back out to the brightly lit hall intent on giving hell to whoever dared disturb her slumber this time.  

As she gets closer to the door in her sleep deprived state Marianne thinks she recognizes one of the voices, but that can’t be right. Two women and a man are talking in hushed, stage whisper tones. The man sounds angry while the women both convey concern.

“I need to see my son” one of the women says.

The door creaks with a groan of protest as Marianne swings it open and slips back out into the hall. The noisy door alerts the strange trio to her presence. The three individuals all turn as one. The tallest of the triad is a woman wearing the long white coat of the hospital staff, Marianne recognizes her as the doctor who looked after Bog. The second woman is much shorter then Dr. Plum, but she is plump and friendly looking in a Molly Weasley kind of way, complete with frizzy red hair. 

“Marianne?” the man gasps in surprise.

Her sleep addled brain had not been playing tricks on her after all, she had indeed recognized the sound of her father’s voice.

“Daddy, what are you doing here?” Marianne is so confused and for one moment she fears something must have happened to Dawn. 

“Oh!” the Molly Weasley look-a-like squeaks, “you’re Marianne. Oh Honey, let me take a look at you.”

Before Marianne can protest the squat woman is circling her, looking her over from every angle, muttering all the while.

“So, you’re the young lady who’s got my boy all in a tither.”  The woman flashes Marianne an inhumanly wide, and toothy smile.

Spotting her unkempt hair she adds with some dismay, “Don’t you have a comb?”

“You’re Bog’s mother?” Marianne stutters, suddenly feeling so inferior in the woman’s intense gaze.  

Never would she have wanted to meet Bog’s mother looking the way she did. Marianne hadn’t showered in two days and her hair was sticking up more than usual from the stress of the past few hours. She probably had racoon eyes from yesterday’s makeup, and natural dark shadows from lack of sleep. Suddenly self-conscious Marianne ran her fingers through her hair in an attempt to flatten the unruly mop.   

“Wait” interjected Dr. Plum, holding up her hand for a physical reference, “you’re married to him, and you haven’t met his mother?”

“Married!?” Bog’s mother and Marianne’s father shouted at the same time.

Each had a look of terror on their faces, each for different reasons.

“My boy got married and didn’t tell me? Why wasn’t I invited? Was it a shotgun wedding? Did you get married in Vegas? Is it because you’re pregnant?” Griselda’s questions came hard and fast, nearly knocking Marianne off her feet.  

Marianne blushed deeply at the barrage of questions.

“We ah, may have fibbed a bit, so I could get in to visit him. I didn’t want Bog to be alone after the accident.” Marianne confessed, avoiding the gaze of the trio, the polished hospital hallway floor suddenly seemed very interesting. 

A loud snuffle made Marianne look up only to be jolted as Bog’s mother slammed into her.

Tears flowed freely from the woman’s eyes damping Marianne’s shirt in splotches.

“My boy is so lucky to have you” Griselda sobbed into Marianne’s shoulder. 

“There, there” Marianne said, awkwardly patting the heaving Griselda on her shoulder.

“I suppose I’ll have to leave now?” Marianne asked Dr. Plum who still seemed to be taking stock of the situation.

“Ah, no. That won’t be necessary” the doctor said, flashing Marianne a smile. 

Her father steps forward and Bog’s mother steps away a bit.

“You’re here with one of your trucker friends?” he asks tentatively, “you’re sure you’re not hurt?”

“Yes dad, I’m fine” she gives him a watery smile, and steps into his open arm embrace.

It’s been a little over a month since she’s seen him last, work keeping her on the road longer that it should have. They hold fast to one another for a full minute, Marianne breathing in his calming scent of crush mint and lime, and Irish Springs soap.  For a moment she is transformed back into a little girl confident in the fact no harm can come to her whilst in daddy’s arms. 

“But why are you here?” she asks again, realizing in the bustle of the past few minutes he never got a chance to answer her question. “Is everything alright? Is it Dawn?”

“Dawn?” he asks confused, “no, Honey, oh no, Dawn is fine.”

His assurances calm Marianne further. 

“When I first saw you, I thought you were here because of Roland” he confesses.

Marianne stiffens at the name, and it is as though someone had poured a bucket of ice over her.

“Roland?” she stammers out the hateful name. The name of her ex-fiancé.  

“What’s he got to do with anything?” she spits, disgusted at even having to hear his name.  

“You mean, you don’t know?” Her father’s voice quivers lightly.

“Don’t know what?” Marianne feels like she’s missing something.

Images she tried to block flash before her eyes, Bog’s truck in the ditch. Her hearing suddenly becomes faulty, she doesn’t catch all the words her father is saying. 

“Roland. Car crash. A coma.”   

She rubs her hands over her eyes trying to erase the image, a crumpled green sports car. 

“Switching lanes. Speeding up. Slowing down.”

The accident. Roland caused the accident. 

“No” she whispers, as the horrifying realization dawns on her. 

Marianne felt the world begin to tilt under her feet, and great black spots clouded her vision. Someone called out her name, but she didn't have a voice to respond with. Conciseness left her and she fell into a dreamless sleep.


	5. On the Road Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well it was a long time coming but here's the end. Hope you all enjoyed the ride!!

Marianne’s eyelids were heavy and her lashes stuck together as if someone had glued them shut when she tried to open them. When she finally pried them apart it was to find the world had gone sideways. Her head hurt and her throat was sore.

Bog sat in a chair opposite of where she was laying, his eyes were closed and his mouth was slightly parted. The IV was still hooked up to his arm and Marianne watched the gentle trickle of the fluid disappear into his arm. Every second breath had Bog emitting a soft snore. A bit of drool made its way down the side of his stubbly chin. Marianne decides to do the decent thing and wake him up.

“You look like shit” Marianne said, her voice was hoarse.

Bog startles awake with a snort at the sound of her voice, he offers her a weak smile, and then scoffs.

“Kind of _you_ ta say so, luv.” His voice is thick sounding and a part of Marianne wishes to hear it every morning. His tone implied Marianne must look about as good as she feels. She feels like roadkill.

“I had the strangest dream” she admitted as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

She’s thrown into a coughing fit but Bog is quick to hand her a cup of water. It is room temperature and she swallows more of it than she had meant to. 

“Oh?” he asked, eyebrows raised, interest piqued.

“Yeah, I dreamed that your mom and my dad showed up here last night-” Marianne started to giggle but stops when she sees the very serious look on Bog’s face.

She’s just about to ask him what’s wrong when a squat motherly woman comes around the corner of the dividing curtain carrying with her a deliciously scented brown bag that reeks of egg McMuffins and hash browns. 

Bog cleared his throat, “it, _ah_ , wasnean a dream.”

Marianne wanted to roll over and pull the hospital blankets over her head and just disappear.  So, Roland causing the accident wasn’t something she had dreamed up, that had actually happened. She had also met Bog’s mother in less than ideal circumstances. 

“I’m glad you’re both awake. Here eat this” Griselda demanded shoving a hash brown in Bog’s mouth and handing Marianne an egg McMuffin with sausage on it. “Are they feeding you in here? Poor thing you look starved.” 

Marianne didn’t have time to protest that she wasn’t the patient here before the woman waddled off with a “I’ll go see if I can find yer father dear.”   

Marianne had almost finished her breakfast when her father entered the room in a frantic panic.

“Marianne” he sighed in relief.

“Hey dad” Marianne smiled sheepishly as she swallowed her last bite.

The last time she’d been home they hadn’t exactly parted on the best of terms, her father still begging her to give Roland another chance. 

Bog cleared his throat, “Ah’ll ah, Ah’ll just leave shall I?”   

Bog tried to stand but his knees buckled slightly.

“No, no stay” her father said, motioning him to sit back down.  

“Marianne, I’m so sorry” her father said, coming to sit by her bed.

There was a lump in Marianne’s throat that wouldn’t go away, no matter how many times she swallowed.

“How’s Roland?” she asked, both wanting, and not wanting to know the answer.

“They are bringing him out of the coma now. The doctors think there might be some brain damage.”

At Marianne’s inhale of horror her father began to placate her.

“Hopefully nothing too bad” he father amended, “some mild amnesia, but they won’t know until they fully wake him.” 

“I want to see him” Marianne said bravely, “before we leave.”

“Of course, of course” her father said, nodding in agreement.

“Bog, was it?” he asked, turning around.

“Yes sir?” Bog asked, looking up at the man, as he was still seated.

“Dawn seems quite taken with you, hasn’t stopped talking about you since Marianne brought her home from their little trip” a slight smile quirked the older man’s lips.

“Is that so?” Bog gave a slight chuckle as he remembered Marianne’s little sister and her vivacious energy. 

“Yes, a little annoying actually. Do let her down easy when you tell her you and Marianne _are_ engaged” Mr. Faye said pointedly.

Behind him Marianne spit out her mouthful of water and began coughing, while Bog stuttered until he managed to get out a stunned “yes sir.”

The two men shook hands and Marianne’s father left them alone once more.

After a moment of stunned silence they both burst out laughing. 

“What could you have possibly done to gain my father’s approval so quickly?” Marianne asked from the bed.

Bog stood up and made his way over to join her, slipping under the sheets. The bed was really only meant for one person so Marianne had to turn on her side, their two bodies pressed close together. 

“Last night, when you went out into the hall, you left the door open. My mother’s voice woke me and I followed you out. When you fainted, I was there to catch you.” Bog pressed a kiss to her forehead. 

“Ah dornt have a ring, not yet, but will ye marry me Tough Girl?” Bog asked, his heart hammering away in his chest.

He was earnest and unsure, his hot voice soft on her ear, “Ah dornt think I can live without ye.”

The confession was so tender and true Marianne just couldn’t take it anymore. Tears sprang to her eyes and she cried openly. Bog hugged her tight to his chest where her tears wet his hospital gown. It had been a long and emotional 24 hours but after this ordeal Marianne knew that she and Bog could face whatever life had to throw at them as long as they’re together.

She nods her head against his chest.

“Yes, _yes_ Bog I will marry you, of course!” she cried, pressing her lips to his.

They kiss long and slow until Bog begs her to stop. They are both extremely aroused but the prospect of a quickie in a hospital bed appeals to neither of them. Either of their parents could return in a moment, and it’s been a while since a nurse has checked Bog’s vitals. If he had of been hooked up to a heartrate monitor it would have been going haywire.  

***

An hour later and Marianne had been thoroughly washed and dressed in a new pair of jeans and cute button up plaid top. Bog was also clean and had been cleared for discharge, his mother had run down to the nearest Wal-Mart and had him outfitted with some blue jeans, an AC/DC logo t-shirt, and a grey flannel over shirt.  

Despite the new cuts and abrasions along his jaw and his particularly charming black eye, Marianne thought Bog looked damn sexy. If it wasn’t for the fact his arm was in a sling she’d jump him right now.

“Do ye want me to come in with you?” Bog asked as they stood outside Roland’s room together.

Marianne was so nervous about seeing him again and she didn’t know what to expect. Doctor Plum had told her that he was alert and able to receive visitors but he did seem to be suffering from some mild amnesia and maybe seeing a familiar face would help jog his memory. 

Marianne tightened her grip on Bog’s hand and that was all the answer he needed.

They entered the room together, hand in hand, a nurse in pale purple scrubs with cartoon spiders on them ushered them in.  Her name tag read Beatrice.

“Bea, oh Bea! I was so worried, you were gone so long” Roland’s southern drawl grated on Marianne’s ears.

“I was only gone a few minutes Mr. Green. Look I brought you some guest.” Beatrice said, marching right over to Roland’s bedside, making sure he was properly tucked in.

Marianne waited for the anger she had felt last night to return, but it never did. Roland looked at her with a blank expectant expression, like a child who had been told they were about to receive a present they hadn’t asked for. Looking at him, laying in the hospital bed, face all cut up, and his golden hair shaved off, all Marianne felt was pity.

Some awful part of her thought Roland might have tried to play a trick on them, that he might try to convince her he believed they were still engaged, as a way to try and win Marianne back. That was something the old Roland would have tried to do.

“Do you recognize either of these people, Mr. Green?” Beatrice asked him.

Roland turned to look at her as if she might give him a hint to the correct answer, but the nurse’s face gave nothing away. She was young, and kind of pretty Marianne figured. She was a few inches taller than Marianne perhaps and her long light brown hair was pulled up into a smooth bun that sat perfectly atop her head. 

Roland looked back at Bog and then Marianne, studding each of their faces intently. For a moment Marianne thought she saw a flicker of recognition pass Roland’s features but then he was shaking his head no.

“No, I’m sorry, I don’t” he confessed, with a frown.

“Should I?” he asked worried, again looking to Beatrice for approval, “did I, did I do something wrong?”  

He sounded so unsure, so lost, so unlike the Roland Marianne had known.    

***

They left the hospital together, still holding hands. Bog had decided not to press charges on a man who couldn’t even remember he had caused an accident. No one knew if Roland had caused the accident deliberately or not. How would he have even known Marianne was interested in the trucker?  

Bog’s mother drove them to the place they had towed his truck to. Unfortunately the old rig was in worse shape than they had thought. In the end it would be cheaper to buy a new one than fix the old. 

“Well maybe then you can stay around home for a bit” his mother chastised, “put in some office time, get some paperwork done.”

“Paperwork?” Marianne asked confused, the only ‘paperwork’ truckers usually had was their log-sheets.

“Didn’t he tell you?” Griselda asked aghast, “how long have you two been dating?

“Mother” Bog warned with a growl.

“Not long” Marianne said with a smirk.

“He owns the company, Dark Forest Logging” Griselda explained.

“What?” Marianne felt her jaw unhinge, he owned the company.

“It’s a family run business, Bog started working as a driver for his father almost as soon as he turned 18. After his father died he still had no interest in the office side of things so he kept driving his life away.” Griselda explained.

Bog turned to look sheepishly at Marianne, his face bright red. He gave a nervous chuckle rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. Bog flashed a crooked little smile of embarrassment as she continued to stare at him unblinking in shock.

“You?” she half asked, pointing a finger at him.

Bog gave a confirming shrug. 

“Wow” Marianne exhaled, impressed.

***

In the end Bog was only stuck on office duty for about a month, during which time Marianne took every available opportunity to visit him. Between the insurance money and a fund Bog had set aside for work he was able to buy a brand new Kenworth T680 76” Mid-Roof Sleeper, with diamond interior. He also splurged and got a custom dark forest green paint job with a single black pine tree (his company’s logo) stenciled on the driver’s side door, and because the new colours were just hideous. Bog had also gone out and bought a ring for Marianne since the last time he saw her.

He was waiting for her now, in the parking lot of the Primrose Diner, and he nervously ran his thumb over the soft black velvet of the ring box in his pocket. Bog had no idea why he was so nervous, she had already said yes! But giving her a ring somehow made it more real, like it was finally, actually happening. It wasn’t like they had to get married right away, he reasoned with himself as he paced in front of his truck. They could be engaged for a year or two. Or they could hop in their trucks today and make a b-line for Vegas and be married tonight. Bog smiled brightly at the idea of eloping with Marianne, she would probably be all for it. Bog got the feeling she wouldn’t want a big white wedding anyway after her first attempt. It would be her father and sister who took issue with the hastiness of their marriage. A whirlwind romance his mother would call it. 

It didn’t have to be a big wedding, they could have a small simple ceremony, just his ma and Marianne’s father and sister. They could even hold it on Marianne’s family’s property. She showed him pictures of the grand old home with sprawling, park like gardens in the back. It would be nice there in late spring when the flowers were blooming.

A long low wolf whistle distracted Bog from his thoughts of marriage, and halted his pacing. Lost in his own thoughts Bog hadn’t noticed Marianne pull in. 

“Nice rig ya got there” she said, giving him a smirk that made his long legs turn to jelly, “gonna take me for a ride in it later?”

The smoldering gaze she had directed at him was making it difficult to remember his name.

“Maybe” he replied flirtingly.

Marianne ran towards him and he caught her as they crashed together, he lifted her off the ground slightly and they kissed passionately for a moment, before he gently set her down.

“On one condition” he growled softly.

“Anything” Marianne panted, breathless, looking up at him with eager anticipation.

“Will ye wear this?” he asked bringing the ring box out of his pocket and opening it for Marianne to see. 

She brought up her hand, and covered her mouth in surprise, as if she hadn’t been expecting it. It was a simple ring, just a band of white gold with a single small diamond. Perfect for the wife of a trucker, no, perfect for a trucker.

“Yes Bog” Marianne sighed at last, tears shimmering in her eyes, “yes I will wear it.”

The ring fit perfectly and they kissed again to the sound of loud cheering, as the staff of the diner as well as their families had come out to the parking lot to see what was taking them so long.   

They enjoyed a quiet engagement dinner with the people they cared about most and avoided wedding talk as much as they could. 

Marianne was feeling so giddy when they finally let the Primrose, she couldn’t remember the last time she was so genuinely happy. 

“So, you gonna take me for that ride now?” Marianne asked, teasingly, running her hand along Bog’s muscular arm.

He shivered at her touch, and the suggestion of her words.

“Aye Tough Girl” he said with a growl, “Ah might even let ye drive.”

Bog helped her up into the cab, and Marianne swooned over the interior. As they pulled out onto the highway Bog turned on the radio. Marianne reached over and took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. On the radio Willie Nelson sang _On the Road Again_.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Inspirational Play List:  
> CW McCall- Convoy  
> Dave Dudley- Six Days on the Road  
> Jerry Reed- East Bound and Down  
> The Willis Brother- Give Me 40 Acres  
> Rodger Miller- King of the Road  
> Diesel Smoke Sally  
> Giddy Up Go (This song will make you cry, it still gets me every time)  
> Stompin’ Tom Connors- Bud the Spud (For a Canadian flair)  
> Eddie Rabbit- Driving my life away  
> Kris Kriststofferson- Me and Bobby McGee  
> Long John Baldry- Darling  
> David Allan Coe- Would you lay with me  
> Patsy Cline- Walkn' after Midnight


End file.
